


Barring Accidents

by distorted_prose



Category: History Boys (2006), History Boys - All Media Types, History Boys - Bennett
Genre: M/M, Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distorted_prose/pseuds/distorted_prose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunday afternoon - not in the subjunctive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barring Accidents

**Author's Note:**

> First posted here: http://rarelitslash.livejournal.com/184146.html many years ago (sadly the formatting has long since died). Though based specifically on the play - hence the charity shop reference - it works for the film too.

_Sunday afternoon, near school. Dakin is met by Irwin. They set off in silence, neither closely nor briskly though Dakin occasionally strays ahead as though he knows the way. The silence is broken once, outside Age Concern where Irwin pauses._

 

 **Dakin** It’s closed, it's a Sunday.

 

                         _A while later_

 

                       You know, I've sometimes wondered where you live. I used to think a neat little flat,   some kind of studio, every corner made your own; but there aren't any flats near here so it must be one of these god-awful boxes...

 

 **Irwin** It's a bungalow, actually.

 

 **Dakin**         ( _Shaking his head)_ And a place for everything and everything in its place?

 

 **Irwin**...You might say that

 

 **Dakin**         I have. _(At the door)_  Let's see.

 

_There is not quite enough time for hesitation, as Dakin steps in after Irwin, into a room quite sparsely but neatly furnished. There is little to provide much insight into Irwin’'s interests, but a low table, perhaps a desk, is set towards one corner; towards the other, a piano._

 

 **Dakin**         Why do you never play the one at school?

 

 **Irwin**          Who's to say I don’t?

 

                       _Pause._

 

 **Dakin**         What do you play?

 

 **Irwin**          All sorts. Some classical, some jazz... The last owners left it. Arthritic.

 

_Dakin keys out the opening bars of Moonlight Sonata with little technique and awkward fingering._

**Irwin**          ...Piano sonata number fourteen, C Sharp minor, _'Quasi una Fantasia'_ , Opus 27, _Nummer Zwei_ Adagio Sostenuto - Beethoven.

 

 **Dakin**         . . . Come again?

 

 **Irwin**          Moonlight Sonata, Dakin

 

 **Dakin**         So they told me. Only thing I heard them play worth learning...

 

_Dakin frowns at the keys. Pause, as Irwin considers joining him to play the left hand._

 

 **Irwin**           _(Quietly)_ Again?

 

 **Dakin**         _(Glancing slightly)_ Alright.

 

_Dakin continues to stumble through the sonata before crunching the keys, frustrated._

 

                You're hopeless you are. I didn't come here to play dead, boring composers! In class, I thought you were just coming round to it - "a better offer" - and then I turn up and I've lost you again! Crawled back into your shell... I mean for God's sake, I even thought about what I was going to wear for more than two minutes!

 

 **Irwin**           _(Hardly glancing from the keys_ ) It's nice.

 

 **Dakin**         _Nice?_ My parents thought I was going to _church!_

 

 **Irwin**           _(Beat)_ I didn't— _(Appeasing_ ) I didn't write it- in the diary...  _(Glances swiftly up, then back)_ You told me to keep it in my head or— _(Visibly trembling)_

 

 **Dakin**         _(Softened, a little; still exasperated)_ You have ‘Handle with Care’ written all over, don’t you?

 

 **Irwin**          —Here. _(Sudden. He touches Dakin's shirt. He still cannot meet his eyes)_

 

                      _Pause._

 

 **Dakin** Sir?

 

                      _Pause._

 

                      A cliché:

 

 **Irwin**           _(Barely perceptible)_ Oh?

 

 **Dakin**         Put your money where your mouth is. _(He kisses him resolutely)_

**Author's Note:**

> I have vaguely toyed with the idea of continuing this fic (warranting a rating higher than G...) but I don't think I would continue in script-format.
> 
> (Comments welcome).


End file.
